The Pegasus Rider and the Dark Mage
by YuriLover47
Summary: Tharja just wants to be alone, to remain undisturbed and simply admire her dear Robin from afar. However, Cordelia has other plans, aiming to befriend the black haired girl. But will they find something deeper then just friendship in one another? YURI


**Hi everyone! This is my second story, another Fire Emblem: Awakening yuri fic. I worked pretty hard on this, and I'm pretty happy with the result. Well, I hope you enjoy!**

I pause as a gust of wind blows, whipping strands of red hair against my face. I lift my hand and turn my head to shield myself from the chilling breeze. And that's when I spot her.  
Tharja, the antisocial dark mage, is sitting beneath an old oak tree at the top of a hill that overlooks camp. She seems unfazed by the cold weather or the threat of the large, dark clouds that are steadily approaching. I watch her turn the page of a book that she's reading, either oblivious that I'm staring at her, or, more likely, not caring.  
I can't pretend like her behavior doesn't bother me. She spends almost every waking moment by herself. She refuses to befriend any of our allies. She would rather spend her time inventing new devious spells and hexes than having a good time with friends. Why? I find myself asking this question every time I see her. Why would one prefer to be alone? This war is taxing both physically and mentally, so it would be natural for one to unwind with friends. Is she afraid of losing them? That if she gets too close to them, it will only be harder for her if they die? The very idea makes me furrow my brow in annoyance. If so, than she could stand to put a little more faith in her allies. Gods know that I have.  
Before I really even know what I'm doing, I'm walking towards her, smiling and saying, "Hello, Tharja! How are you?"  
She doesn't respond. I wait awkwardly for some sort of reply, but when she offers none, I continue. "U-um, what are you doing out here? It's quite chilly. Perhaps you'd rather join us all back at camp?"  
Still nothing, except a slight change in her expression. Irritation.  
I myself am beginning to get annoyed. I sigh, placing my hands on my hips. "Look, I'm sure that book must be good, but why not return to camp and spend time with some friends? I'm positive that they would enjoy your company!"  
"What friends?"  
Her words make me freeze. She turns the page, still not even glancing up at me.  
Does she really believe this? That she has no friends? This makes me realize how alone she must feel. Any hint of irritation vanishes and now I am left with a sense of sorrow for this girl.  
I bend down and offer Tharja my hand. "Please, I would like you to come with me."  
She stares at my hand as if I just held out a snake. "Why?" she asks suspiciously.  
I manage a lighthearted chuckle. "Because, if you think you don't have any friends, I would like to be your first!"  
She looks away, disgust in her eyes. "I don't need your pity..."  
"It's not pity. I genuinely want to be your friend."  
She's about to retort, but I reach out and clasp my hand around her wrist, pulling her up with me. I can feel her try to jerk away, but I have an iron grip on her. I'm not letting her go.  
At first I'm not sure where to go, so I'm just dragging her along back towards the arrangements of tents we call camp. But after I feel my stomach growl and realize that evening is already creeping up on us, I suggest, "Why don't we grab something to eat?"  
I hear her growl about not being hungry, but I ignore it. Shortly after, we are under the large tent that has been set up as our mess hall. I can hear the constant patter of rain and the cold gusts of air blowing in from the outside. I'm glad I brought Tharja with me. It would have been awful if she had been caught outside in this storm.  
Our meal isn't anything special. Just lamb stew with a roll of bread and water. I sit there awkwardly for a moment, watching Tharja spin her spoon slowly through her stew. Her eyes are downcast and she seems to be glaring at her meal, but I can tell she must be cross with me.  
"So..." I start. "What were you reading earlier?" It's the best conversation starter I can come up with.  
"A book of black magic." she says simply.  
"Oh." I reply. This isn't getting any less awkward.  
We return to a state of silence for a few minutes, until I see her perk up slightly. Tharja is staring across the dining room, and I follow her gaze.  
My eyes rest on Robin, our fearless tactician. I almost groan in exasperation. I'm not sure why, but Tharja is obsessed with Robin, to the point of stalking the poor guy. I can't help feeling bothered by the way she ignores everyone but him.  
Irritated, I try to get Tharja's attention. "So, it's too bad it's raining. I was hoping to relax outside for a while."  
"Oh?" I can sense that I haven't really captured her interest, but I have nothing else to work with, so I elaborate.  
"Yes. You know, the evening is a fine time to enjoy the outdoors. When the light is just beginning to fade from the setting sun and the air chills...I find it rather calming."  
"Hm." she grunts. She's still staring at Robin.  
Now I can feel myself really getting frustrated. "Tharja, I'm trying to carry on a conversation with you. It would be polite of you to at least look at me."  
"I didn't want to talk with you in the first place." She whips her head around to glare at me and her voice is more hostile, as if I've interrupted her from something important. "Just leave me alone."  
With that, she stands and walks away, exiting the tent despite the heavy rain.

* * *

Stupid red-haired girl. What's with her, acting all friendly with me so suddenly? I'm quite fine on my own. I don't need her pretending to be my friend. Perhaps I should cast some sort of hex on her to keep her away...  
But not now. Now, I'm too tired to devise any hexes. Talking with that girl (what was her name? Cordella? Cornelia?) has tried my patience and left me in a sour mood. All I want is to head to my tent and rest.  
I spot a group of five ahead of me, laughing and joking amiably with one another, trying to seek shelter from the rain. I veer to the right, not wanting to make any contact with them. The detour takes me away from my tent, but it's well worth it to avoid any possible exchange with them.  
The rain plasters my hair down and to my face, but I don't really mind. I don't hate rain. It sends people scurrying inside, desperate for shelter, shrieking like pathetic whelps. It's quite humorous.  
Eventually, I find my tent and slip inside. I sit down on my blankets and check over my book. I grimace. It's soaking wet. Some of the writing has become illegible. I take back what I said. I hate the rain.  
I toss the book to the side and lie down, not bothering to dry myself off or change out of my soaked clothes. I'm too tired to do even that. Almost instantly, I begin to drift off, sleep taking me.

* * *

Despite the way she acted yesterday, I'm intent on spending more time with Tharja. I want her to open up to someone, to me. No matter what she says, I can't possibly believe that she's content without having any friends.  
I prepare for the day and walk out of my tent, hoping to find the dark mage.  
After some asking around, I'm able to locate her tent. I'm not surprised that I have missed it before. It's set apart from the others a bit in a more secluded section of the camp.  
I roll my eyes as I walk towards it, the freshly soaked mud squelching under my boots with every step. Another factor that probably keeps her from getting closer to anyone.  
I reach her tent and stop by the entrance flap. "Tharja?" I call out. "Are you awake?" I wait a moment, but I get no response. "Tharja?"  
I don't think before raising the flap and walking inside. I find her lying prone, her face flat against the ground, turned away from me.  
"Tharja?" I call out gently. This time I'm able to make out a weak cough, the only indication that the girl isn't dead. However, it worries me.  
I kneel beside her and place a hand on her shoulder. I instantly draw back. Her clothes are damp and cold. She doesn't even recoil from my touch as I thought she would.  
"Tharja, are you all right? Tharja!"  
I turn her onto her back and place my hand on her forehead. It's burning hot.  
I curse under my breath. She's sick. She must have caught a cold from the rain last night.  
I rise and quickly get to work. I strip her of her damp clothes and set them aside. I grab the blanket that she must have tossed aside during the night, but pause before I am able to cover her with it.  
This is the first time I've truly taken notice of Tharja's figure. She certainly is blessed. Beautiful, pale skin. All the right curves in all the right places. And not to mention a particular area that Mother Nature was definitely more generous with her than with me.  
I've seen plenty of naked women before. With my old comrades, it was not uncommon for me to help treat any wounds they might have received, no matter where they had received them. But there is something...different about this time. I look upon Tharja with not the eyes of someone intent on helping, but with the eyes of one who is hungrily taking in the view before them. There is a strange feeling building within me. Something akin to...lust...  
I shake my head, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. Now is not the time to be thinking of such things. I cover Tharja with the blanket and rush out of the tent to find some cool water and a cloth.

* * *

I awaken to feel a terrible soreness in my throat and a horrible aching in my head. My limbs feel as if they're made of lead, and an irritating sensation tickles my throat, eliciting a raspy cough from me. There's a wet cloth on my forehead. It's cool and relieves some of the unbearable burning, but not much.  
_'Ill.' _I think. _'I'm ill. Or a hex has been placed on me.'_  
"Oh, you're awake."  
I just manage to force myself to raise my head, which now feels at least ten pounds heavier. I see the red haired girl from yesterday sitting beside me, a smile on her lips. Her eyes are full of concern.  
"You really should have changed out of those wet clothes last night. Now look at you. You've caught a cold."  
It is now that I realize that I'm naked.  
"My clothes..." I clutch at the blanket that is covering my body, but I still feel utterly exposed. "W-why did you take them off...!?"  
"They're sopping wet." she replied. "You can't very well expect me to leave you in those, can you?"  
I grip the blanket tightly, pulling it up to my chin. I shoot the Pegasus rider a deadly glare. "What did you do with them?"  
"They're hanging outside, drying."  
I hate how casual she sounds. She invades my tent, takes my clothes, and acts so nonchalant about it all? I ought to turn her into a toad!  
I turn away from Cordelia (yes, I'm pretty sure that's her name), letting the cloth slip off my head. I mutter, "I don't need your help. Just leave me alone."  
A soft hand caresses my forehead. I flinch at the touch, but as suddenly as it happened, Cordelia's hand pulls away. "I can't just leave you like this. You have such a high fever. I won't abandon you."  
I almost sigh in exasperation. A million schemes pop into my mind, a myriad of hexes that could get me out of this situation, but I can't muster enough strength to carry any of them out. So I let out a withheld breath and lie back, my eyes closing. Cordelia gently places the cloth back on my forehead, and I hear her stand.  
"I'll be right back." she says. I'm a bit surprised. Her comment seems genuine, as if she really is intent on returning. Unlike Robin, who often uses the same words during our brief conversations, but fails to uphold his promise.  
A smile works its way onto my face, despite everything. Robin. Just the thought of him is able to lift my spirits.  
My mind begins to drift away, sleep overtaking me once more. Thankfully, my dreams are filled with only the handsome white haired tactician, stuck in several vulnerable situations before me.  
And no foolish red-haired girls.

* * *

The rest of my time as Tharja's nurse is rather uneventful. I bring her some broth and water, though she refuses to allow me to feed her. She rejects any attempt at conversation, either stubbornly remaining silent or simply shutting me down with a curt response. This continues for two more days until Tharja insists that she is better.  
Luckily, Tharja recovers in time for our next march. Chrom has decided that it is time for us to move out, and the entire army is already packing up their gear, ready for another long trek.  
I tell Tharja the good news, but she only groans and falls back with a thud, as if her sickness returned full force all at once.  
_'She must just be a bit tired.'_ I think.  
After Chrom gives the order to march, I join Tharja at the back of the army. She doesn't seem too thrilled by my company, but I don't allow it to deter me.  
"Hello, Tharja!" We are each carrying a pack full of our possessions, and though mine is much larger and heavier than her's, her shoulders are slumped.  
The dark mage trudges along, barely glancing at me. "What do you want? If you're expecting any special favors, than you can forget it. I already told you that I didn't need your help."  
I shake my head. "No, of course not, Tharja. I wouldn't ask for anything in return. After all, you're my friend."  
I can sense a momentary pause, a sudden stiffness, her body becoming rigid. "Friend?" she repeated. "I don't recall ever befriending you."  
I have to keep myself from rolling my eyes. Gods, why is this girl so _difficult?_ "Tharja, of course we're friends. Or, at least, I would like to be your friend. But you're not making it very easy for me."  
She stares at me for a moment, but I can't read her expression. It's as if she's staring into me, or through me, and I have the sudden fear that she may be planning to curse me. But the moment passes, and she turns her attention back to the road ahead.  
"Fine." she sighs. "I'll be your friend, or whatever. Anything to make you leave me alo-"  
I clasp my hand around her's, my face brightening in an uncontrollable smile. Finally! Progress!  
"Oh, thank you, Tharja! I'm glad you could finally think of me as a friend!"  
Her expression is one of utter surprise for a moment, but she hastily turns away. I giggle, swaying my hand back and forth, her own hanging awkwardly in my grip.

* * *

Later, when I finally have a moment to myself in my tent, I stare at my right hand.  
What an odd girl. What a stupid, odd girl. Why is she trying so hard to be nice to me? Is she mocking me?  
But when she held my hand, some...strange sensation flowed through me. A soft warmness, originating in my chest and spreading throughout my whole body, like a flower made of flame, slowly blooming. My face had burned red, and I had suddenly wanted nothing more than to turn invisible, disappear.  
But it had been...pleasant. The feel of her soft skin. Her strong hand which had hefted many heavy lances, gingerly grasping my own, which had been caught so off guard that it had just hung there like a dead fish. Her tinkly laugh that had sent shivers down my spine.  
Perhaps I underestimated Cordelia. She obviously must be some sort of enchantress. Whatever sorcery she had used, it was powerful.  
I resolve to try to figure out what kind of magic she cast. Whatever it is, it could undeniably help in winning Robin's heart. But in the meantime, I feel that I should stay away from Cordelia. Her potent magic already proved itself at how effective it was at luring me in. I almost felt as though I wanted to..._spend time with_ the girl.  
I shudder. Very powerful magic indeed.

* * *

Unfortunately, Cordelia made it clear that staying away from her was not an option.  
At every opportunity she could find, the Pegasus rider was there beside me, eating with me at meals, walking with me on marches, sitting by me whenever there was any free time, talking about useless, boring things like the flowers and the trees and her Pegasus. It was infuriating.  
I slam my book shut as she prattles on about her winged horse. It doesn't matter that I lost my place in the text. I haven't been able to concentrate with her talking.  
"Cordelia," My voice is low, my patience spent. "Please, just leave me alone."  
She seems confused for a moment, but doesn't relent. "But why? We were having such a nice talk-"  
"No, _you_ were having a nice talk. Even if I had wanted to, I haven't gotten a word in."  
She frowns a bit and places her hands on her hips, one hip jutted out slightly. The edge of her bottom lip is tucked into her mouth like it always is when she's upset.  
I pause. That's odd. Since when did I begin to recognize her body language, her habits?  
"Tharja, you've been free to speak this entire time. You've just been refusing to talk."  
"Because I don't want to. All I've wanted is for you to leave me alone."  
"Don't say that!" Her voice has risen, and, even though we are near the edge of camp, a few faces turn in our direction.  
I try to ignore them, focusing on Cordelia. "What does it matter to you? So what if I want to be alone?"  
"You can't possibly want that! Why would you want that?" Her voice is filled with disbelief and impatience.  
This sparks a fresh wave of irritation in me. I'M the one who should be annoyed!  
"Like it's any of your business! What do you care, anyway?"  
"Because you're my friend, Tharja! I care about you! I don't want you to be alone!"  
"Well I do! I don't need you, and I don't need you pretending to care about me! So, for the last time, leave me alone!"  
A second later, I'm storming away, ignoring Cordelia's shouts behind me.

* * *

I find myself wallowing in a seedy pub later that evening.  
I'm not sure why I stumbled into the place. I had just let my anger carry me, lead me down several streets of the nearby town, until I stopped in front of the building, taking only a moment to stare at it before entering. Then I had immediately claimed a seat at the bar and ordered some mead, slapping a few coins down. The stocky, bearded bartender raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask any questions.  
Brooding as I wait for my drink, I allow Tharja's words to replay over and over in my head.  
How could anyone admit that they were fine on their own? How could anyone not seek companionship? Why would anyone 'want' to be alone?  
I almost don't notice when the pint of brownish liquid is placed before me. But once I get my hands on it, I raise it to my lips and down it all in a few large gulps.  
Slamming the empty pint down onto the table with a loud thud, I fix the bartender with a hard glare and growl, "Again."  
He shrugs. "Whatever you say, lady." He refills the glass, and I down it just as quickly as the first.  
After that, things begin to get a bit fuzzy. I lose count of the amount of drinks I consume, but it begins to matter less and less to me anyways. Images swirl in my sight and the ground feels as if it is shifting up and down, rising and falling like the ocean's waves. Sounds fail to register as correctly, and I barely recognize the bartender's voice when he speaks to me at some point. Something about "too much" and "should stop".  
Whatever the case is, he refuses to fill my glass, even though I demanded him to do so in a slurred voice. At least, I think I did.  
The pair of identical bartenders shake their heads in unison, and a fresh wave of rage surges through me. Something flies out of my hand and shatters, and some words exit my mouth. I'm not sure what I splutter, but apparently it's not too flattering, as I feel a pair of hands take my shoulders and shove me in some direction. My fists swing lazily around, but they don't connect with anything. A moment later, I'm losing my balance, and the ground comes up to meet me.  
I force myself away from it, totally disoriented. I can't tell which direction is which. Part of my body feels numb, but I can't even tell where it is. I think I'm shouting something, but it sounds far away and muffled, as if I'm talking behind a thick pane of glass.  
It feels like hours pass, and I become an emotional roller coaster. Stumbling and crying, then laughing and tripping and stumbling some more. I find myself staring at a thousand tiny, white pinpricks on a black background. Eventually I realize that I'm looking at the stars.  
Then Tharja appears. I can't tell if she's real or not, but there are three of her, all staring down at me.  
"Oh my gods..." they utter. "Did I do this to you?"  
The three Tharjas spin and shift out of focus.  
Then, finally, I black out.

* * *

This stupid girl. This stupid, foolish girl! What was she thinking, getting drunk and wandering around some strange village!?  
I look down at her, amazed at the simple, but drastic, transformation that alcohol had done to her. Her scarlet hair is disheveled and messy and matted with dirt. Her front is stained in vomit, and her eyes are rolling in her head, dazed and completely unfocused. Fortunately, though, she seems relatively unharmed, the only injuries being from her various falls, and she doesn't appear to have been assaulted by anyone.  
"Come on," I growl at her, yanking her to her feet and dragging her away by the arm. "You're coming with me."  
She groans something unintelligible, but doesn't fight back.  
Later, I'm back at camp with the drunk Cordelia. Somewhere along the trip back, she passed out, and it become a challenge trying to drag her along. It's late, and everyone else is already asleep, so there's no way I can get help.  
'_It's probably for the best.'_ I think, straining to haul the girl. _'There's no way this could help her reputation.'_  
Finally, I manage to bring her to my tent. After lying her down inside the tent, I fetch a wooden tub and a bucket and gather some water. I managed to secure a nice spot near a copse of trees while setting up my tent earlier, and I now set up Cordelia's bath in this place. The water is cool, and I only fill the tub to about halfway, but it's good enough.  
Then comes the uncomfortable part. I return to the tent, and, sure enough, the red-haired drunk is still out cold. I take a deep breath and then begin to undress her, half expecting her to wake up at any moment and freak out at my actions. But she remains unconscious, and I am able to carry her to the bath without any problems.  
I scrub her hair and chest clean, the dirt and dried vomit washing away into the water. Trying not to look at her is hard. Constantly, I feel my gaze drift over her body, admiring her slender, yet strong physique. Then I tear my eyes away and shake my head. I need to focus.  
Eventually, Cordelia is clean, and I gratefully pull her out of the tub. She's beginning to wake up, so I dry her off, grab her clothes and help her into them. It's not an easy task since she seems to sway between groggily accepting my assistance and adamantly resisting my efforts to dress her.  
Finally, after a lot of hard work, Cordelia is clothed and lying in my tent, floating in a state of semi-consciousness.  
Staring at her, I find it hard to believe that this girl is the same Cordelia that was talking with me just a few hours ago. I wonder why she drank so much, what she could have felt that drove her to do this.  
A loose strand of hair clings to her face and I instinctively brush it away. As soon as I do so, her eyes flutter open.  
I curse silently.  
I expect her to ramble on and flail her arms drunkly or something, but instead her eyes focus on mine and a smile crosses her lips.  
"Tharja." Her voice is slightly slurred, but when she stares at me, I know that she sees me and not some alcohol induced mirage.  
I can't think of anything to say, but Cordelia doesn't seem to mind. Her hand finds mine, and, though I flinch when we make contact, my hand settles into hers'.  
It feels the same. Just like the first time we held hands. Soft, gentle, a signal that offers security, a sense of warmth. Even in her drunk stupor, I'm surprised Cordelia's touch can still elicit the same reaction she got out of me from that first moment.

* * *

Tharja's face is beet red, and her eyes are looking anywhere but me. For some reason, this seems hilarious to me, and I can't help but chuckle, a sort of gargled sound that escapes my throat.  
I turn my head to look at my hand. Somehow, it's found its' way to Tharja's. Or she found mine. A spark of glee lights up in me. I like the second possibility better.  
Tharja's fingers are intertwined in my own, and I can feel a small, reassuring squeeze from her. I smile like an idiot, but the pure joy from the simple gesture is just too much for me.  
And then a memory resurfaces.  
A bloodstained hand, the fingers wrapped around my own, shaking, their owner hanging on tightly, life slipping away from them. My comrade, commanding, yelling at me to flee, to warn the others. The sound of metal clanging against metal. The shrieks of my allies, both those dying and those charging to their death.  
And then I am alone, abandoning my allies, abandoning my dying comrade. To save myself.  
I'm alone.  
A tear forms in the corner of my eye, and it spills over, running down my face. Tharja instantly takes notice, and her eyes widen.  
"Cordelia? What's wrong? Cordelia!?"  
I fling myself forward and bury my head into the crook of Tharja's neck, sobbing uncontrollably. A mixture of the affects of the alcohol and the utter despair and torment I felt for leaving my allies for dead comes crashing down on me all at once. My body shakes with each sob, and my tears stain Tharja's robe.  
How could I have done such a thing? My fellow Pegasus riders, my old squadron, my sisters...how could I have left them all to die while I escaped?  
I hate myself for it. I absolutely loathe myself. I'm a coward. The greatest coward that ever lived. I should have stayed with them, died with them. Maybe I could have prevented their slaughter.  
But, instead, I ran away, abandoning them in their time of need.  
I'm a coward.  
"No," Tharja said.  
I paused for a moment. Had I said those thing out loud? I can't tell. My head is still fuzzy. But that memory. Oh, that memory is all too vivid...  
"You're not a coward." Tharja says to me. She gently pushes me away from her so she can look into my eyes. I can see that her's are filled with concern. She blinks and continues. "You're not a coward. You're a brave Pegasus rider. You're an important member of your squad."  
I shake my head. "_Was_..."  
"No. You're squad still lives with you. They trusted that you would carry the message to Phila and Emmeryn. They _knew _you could do it. So you should fight on for them. They live on within you. Don't let them die with you."  
I can feel Tharja's words sink in. Each word seems to hang suspended in the air for a moment. Each word offers comfort, offers a warm sensation that calms my nerves, slows my ragged breathing, dries my tears.  
A moment passes, and there is a serene silence between us. Tharja stares into my eyes, and I stare back.  
Words spill forth from my mouth, but I'm not even entirely sure what I say. All I know is that they feel _right, _that whatever I'm saying holds great meaning, is possibly the most important thing I've ever said to anyone.  
Then there is the warm feeling of Tharja's lips against mine. Initially, they only lightly brush my own. But soon they meet mine in a full kiss. Tharja's lips are passionate, but gentle. She doesn't force herself onto me, but she doesn't attempt to pull away at all.  
In my drunk haze, I can only sense the dull feeling that I've just come to terms with something, just realized something that had been gnawing at the back of my mind for a while now. But I cannot fully know what just yet. However, the bliss is not lost on me.  
Time passes at an irregular rate, much too slowly. But I enjoy it, the prolonged kiss, the faint tingle of joy that begins to grow with each minute.  
Then I'm curled up against Tharja, her face very close to mine. I don't remember when the kiss ended, but it doesn't matter. I know that what matters is her, that I'm with her.

* * *

My lips still tingle from the kiss. It's such an odd sensation...yet I love it.  
Love. Is this what this feeling was? Is this what caused that warm feeling in my chest when Cordelia held my hand, that overwhelming concern when I saw tears in her eyes, the ecstasy when I heard those words, felt those lips kissing me?  
Love. I smile.  
Yes, this is definitely love.  
Even though Cordelia is still slightly out of it, I can see some coherence in her eyes. She has one arm wrapped around my neck, her fingers stroking my hair soothingly. The other is still keeping its hold on my hand.  
I smile at her, and she smiles back.  
"I don't want to be alone, either." I say. I can't be sure that she's taking in every word, but I know that she gets the meaning. "That's why I always obsessed over Robin. I wanted someone to save me from my loneliness-to love me-and I just happened to choose him. I was so desperate to avoid being alone, but I just ended up exiling myself, forcing myself to be alone."  
Cordelia brings her hand down to my cheek. It brushes against my face like a feather.  
"But now, I'm not alone. Neither of us have to be alone. Because we have each other."  
There was a glint in Cordelia's eye. "Yes." she still sounds intoxicated, but there's genuine love buried under it. "We have each other, Tharja."  
I nod, then close my eyes and nestle my head against her chest. Cordelia hugs me closer, her left cheek resting on top of my head. I can hear the steady thumping of her heart, a rhythmic beating that soothes me.  
When I open my eyes again, her's are closed, and her breathing has slowed. I know that she's asleep, but I plant another kiss on her lips anyways.  
_"I love you."_  
Her words echoing in my mind, I close my eyes and whisper, "I love you too, Cordelia."

**I don't know why I thought of this pairing, but once I did, I just couldn't get it out of my head. They're both pretty cute, aren't they?**

**Anyways, please tell me what you think! Bye!**


End file.
